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Atlas Gym, Tuesday

Clint had fully intended to work out and deal with administrative crap today, but mail had been piling up and something was wonky with one of the indoor pool's filters and Clint was pretty sure if he left everything for Natasha he'd get a deathglare that would actually turn him to stone (what, she was totally capable of that) so he was at the main desk, twirling around in his chair as he sat on hold with the pool people. At least their hold music wasn't too terrible.

[Open!]

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Stiles had made a promise to Derek in exchange for pancake bites so here he was, fulfilling it. It might be the only time you'd ever see him in a gym.

Mr. Barton didn't seem particularly busy but Stiles stood there politely while he...twirled.

Clint didn't notice Stiles until his second spin around. It was totally an aerobic activity, shhh. "Whoa, hi," he said, smiling and setting the phone down. "Hey, how's it going?"

"I'm not interrupting something important, am I?" That looked like serious business twirling.

"Nah, if I let myself sit on hold for much longer I might start humming along to the music, and then who knows what might happen," Clint said with a laugh. "What can I do for you?"

"Okay this is going to sound weird. Or maybe not so weird," Stiles said. "But, okay, to the surprise of no one there's some serial killer stuff going on back home and Derek has this completely insane idea that I'm going to be killed so he wanted me to go to you to get something to protect myself with."

Yes. Derek suggested he go to Clint.

Clint's eyes narrowed a little at the mention of Derek. Sorry, it was becoming an automatic reaction now. "Why does he think you're going to get killed here if the serial killer stuff is going on at home?"

"See I have this theory that the killings are actually related to human sacrifices---sounds ridiculous, I know, but it's on par for Beacon Hills," Stiles explained. "And all three victims share a trait that I also happen to share."

Please don't make him say it.

"What trait?"

Sorry Stiles, but in Clint's defense, he was thinking it was something serious.

Stiles sighed and looked away from Clint like no eye contact would make this any less awkward. "Virgins. They were virgins and I'm a virgin, so..."

They were talking about human sacrifices and serial killing and Clint really shouldn't have laughed but he just couldn't help it. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Are the police working on this? Why can't you just stay here where you're safe?"

"Okay, Derek 2.0, I can't do that. For one thing, the police is my dad and if this has to do with the supernatural then he can't solve this on my own," he said. "And for another thing, one of the people that died was my friend. I'm not going to hide here when I can do something to help find her killer."

Clint sighed, and not just because Stiles likened him to Derek, which was just mean. "I'm sorry about your friend," he said sympathetically. "I'm assuming you can't just tell your dad what's up?"

"No, I don't want him knowing about this supernatural stuff," Stiles said, shaking his head. "Once he knows he'll want to be involved in everything and he'll get himself killed."

Like father like son, really.

"There's really no convincing me not to go back there. Derek already tried."

"So you came to me to get armed instead. I suppose that's a compliment." Clint smirked softly at Stiles. "All right, what are you looking for? Or should I say, what do you know how to use that you won't hurt yourself with in the process?"

"Derek said mace," he said. "Actually he suggested something arrow-y at first but I told him about the time I nearly shot Scott in the eye. And you've seen me in class."

Yeah he sucked with weaponry outside of a baseball bat.

Clint was tempted, just for a second, to suggest a weapon to go against Derek's advice but yes, he had seen Stiles in class. "Yeah, no offense but mace is probably a better idea. Stay right there," he said, going into the office and rifling around in the desk. He knew there was some mace in one of the drawers, he just had to remember which one it was. "You're going to be careful even with this, right?" he called out to the front.

"Of course," he said. "I've sprayed myself before it wasn't fun."

Clint finally found the mace and gave Stiles a look as he came back out to the desk. "I meant, you're not going to go looking for trouble unless you absolutely have to? If anything happens to you, I'm blaming Derek," he said, offering the mace to Stiles. "Here, you should be able to stick this in your pocket or something to keep it hidden until you need it."

"Yeah sure," Stiles said, reaching in to take his phone out of his pocket, intending to switch it out with the mace. He'd look more normal with his phone in his hand than a weapon to be sure. Only his phone wasn't the only thing that came out of his pocket. Someone hadn't done their laundry since the weekend and an XXL condom flew out of his pocket and landed on the desk.

Well. He'd like to die now.

Clint looked at the condom, and then at Stiles, and then at the condom again. "Is that for you or for someone else?" Hey, if Stiles liked them big, he couldn't judge.

"I uh..." Was it possible for someone to turn that red. "Both?"

Clint laughed and pushed the condom - with just the tip of his finger thank you - towards Stiles. "I guess losing your virginity could help defend yourself too, but I still think you're better off with the mace."

"I thought about it," Stiles said, taking the condom and sticking it in his pocket. "Not too many people willing to have sex with me though. The only two people that have ever been interested are dead."

"That's not your fault." Clint wasn't sure if Stiles blamed himself, but he knew that was how he'd probably feel in that situation. "It's also not something worth rushing into. Just keep yourself protected and try to stay out of trouble. And if you need anything else, just let me know, okay?"

"Thanks, Mr. Barton," Stiles said. "Be sure to rub it in Derek's face that he told me to ask you for help."

Clint laughed. "Oh, you know I will."

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Atlas Gym, Tuesday

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